


I'd Start a Revolution (If I Could Get Up in the Morning)

by Modernise



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Chocolate, Classroom, College Castes, Cuddling, Hand Jobs, Inspired by Art, M/M, Oral Sex, Studying, Texting, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modernise/pseuds/Modernise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fics based off Allahdammit's College Castes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silver Lining

Twenty-three minutes.

Twenty-three whole minutes and counting.

Altaïr was literally going to die if class did not end soon enough. He sighed and checked his watch again.

Scratch that, it was now twenty-four minutes.

Twenty-four now worthless minutes wasted without Malik and counting.

Altaïr looked up from his watch and spared a moment to observe his professor. He saw the man's lips moving, yet he heard no words coming out. His gaze shifted towards the board behind the man, and noted the various complexities written on it.

Altaïr groaned.

Fucking Calculus.

Altaïr doodled for a bit in his notebook, but they mainly consisted of Malik. He face-palmed himself several times till he looked down at his phone. Some form of entertainment would be greatly appreciated, and perhaps it would be the cure to his boredom.

"hey."

Pressing the 'Send' button Altaïr waited patiently for a couple minutes. After waiting several minutes and not receiving a reply of some sort, he tried again.

"heeeey."

He waited again, only to receive no response. 99.99% sure that the other was ignoring him, Altaïr did what he knew best.

"hey. mal." "hey" "heeeeey" "you alive?" "malik malik malik" "fucking answer me" "fine, be that way" "sorry no jk" "i know you hate abbreviations" "malik" "i miss you" "i wanna see you right now" "maaaaaaaalik" "are you still mad at me?" "because i'm really sorry for using your thesis paper as a napkin" "i couldn't help myself i swear there was ketchup all over me" "if anything, you should be mad at ezio for spilling the ketchup on me" "but don't worry i beat him up afterwards haha" "dammit i fucking hate this class" "bitches should be happy i don't have a damn shotgun on me"

"It's alright, now shut the fuck up already you insufferable dickwad."

Altaïr grinned. His tactics had worked after all. He began typing a reply.

"mal, i miss you sooo much"

"I'm quite sure you do. Who else would be doing your work for you?"

"hey don't give yourself all the credit"

"I'm not."

"you're not what?"

"Lying and kidding."

"about what?"

"You know what."

"what do i know?"

"Shut up before I accidentally push you down a flight of stairs on purpose."

"how many flights?"

"Altair. You are really testing my patience."

"don't worry imma wear a helmet when you do"

"If you value your privates I suggest you shut the fuck up."

"... is that a threat?"

Another pause. Perhaps Altaïr had to try different tactics to get the other male to notice him. Abandoning the conversation would prove fruitless since he was having way too much fun with it.

"started from the bottom now we're here"

Altaïr knew how much Malik hated that song. Frankly, he hated any rap song.

"started from the bottom now the whole team fucking here"

After typing out all the lyrics and verses to the entire song, he still did not receive anything. Altaïr was beginning to get a bit desperate for a response.

"we're no strangers to love" "you know the rules and so do i" "something something ah fuck it i dunno the lyrics" "never gonna give you up" "never gonna let you down" "never gonna run around and desert you" "never gonna make you cry" "never gonna say goodbye" "never gonna tell a lie and hurt you"

Altaïr still did not receive a reply. However, he imagined Malik's face the instant he read Altaïr's texts: Red and livid with irritation. And it was then when Altaïr used his last and final tactic.

"babe i'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk right for days"

"Ooh," a voice to his right said, " _Sembra bellissimo_. Mind if I join?"

Altaïr growled. "No, Ezio. Now fuck off." He couldn't tell whether his Italian friend was kidding or not, because Altaïr did not doubt any of the words coming out his mouth. The guy slept with practically anything, it was quite ridiculous.

"Aw, but Mal's actually kinda cute. _Particolarmente a letto mio_." Ezio murmured the last part to avoid being thrown out the window.

Altaïr sent Ezio a look that probably contributed to Global Warming. "Do not call him Mal," said he with enough frost to freeze Sub-Saharan Africa.

Ezio laughed and lifted his hands in defense. Like Altaïr, he too did not doubt his friend's intentions. " _Sto scherzando_! I was only kidding. _Dio mio_ , Altaïr."

"I'd hope so," muttered Altaïr averting his gaze downwards. He noticed a series of new texts. He was giddy with excitement till he realised that they weren't actually from Malik. They were from Desmond.

"mind explaining why malik is red as fuck and trying to hide his face while periodicly muttering 'why do i even date him'?" "now his faces in his hands" "hes right next to me so its kinda unavoidable" "seriously its getting really distracting" "i didnt mean that in a dirty way"

Altaïr smirked. That explained quite a lot.

"it's because he misses me"

"not sure about that. he just called you a fucking idiot"

"that's just his way of saying 'i love altair with all my heart and he's so fucking hot and hell yeah i would let him bang me. *swoons*'"

"wow altair i thought you quit doing drugs"

"fuck you desmond i never did drugs"

"seems like it though"

"yeah sure whatever you want bro just tell mal to answer his fucking texts because i'm bored as fuck ok"

"we both know he wont"

"just fucking do it"

"alright alright fine"

Altaïr sat back and waited for another text. To his luck, one was received about a quarter of an hour later.

"What the fuck do you want because Desmond won't shut the fuck up."

"wow i'm gonna buy him a martini later"

"He already works at a bar. Why the fuck would he want that?"

"oh... right. i forgot haha"

"That's great. Now can you just leave me alone?"

"but i'm bored." "and i miss you."

"What the fuck would it take for some peace? Hell, I'll even pay you. I just want to study peacefully."

"but you already study enough."

"Only so that I don't end up failing all my classes. Classes require work and effort, something that you do not want or have."

"mal, you're not writing an essay. no need to write so formal."

A hand clamped and shook his shoulder immediately after the message was sent. "Hey, Altaïr." It was Ezio again. "Class is over," grinned the Italian.

Altaïr grinned back and patted him on the shoulder, grateful that Ezio anchoured him back to Planet Earth, else he'd be sitting in an empty classroom with a (possibly) annoyed professor. It had happened before, but Altaïr came up with an excuse and ended up asking his professor idiotic questions in a serious tone. He only received an irritated glare and, soon, a "Get out." Altaïr hated professor Vidic. The man insisted on being called _Doctor_ Vidic, which was fucking ludicrous.

As he walked out of the class he sent Malik another text.

"hey, where are you?"

"Library with Desmond. Why?"

Altaïr didn't bother to reply, as he began sprinting out of the building at full speed. He ignored walking students, expecting those in his way to move aside and nearly breaking unsuspecting students' necks in the process. But, fortunately, he found himself in front of the library doors without breaking foreign bones.

Halting his footsteps, he slowly entered the building. He didn't want to get kicked out because he was running. Slowing down to a fast-walking pace he scanned the entire first floor of the building. Just a whole bunch of students and books. No Malik. Or Desmond. He went up the stairs to the second floor. There was a huge Starbucks situated in the centre of the entire place, filled with students and hipsters alike. Some were taking pictures of (and possibly Instagramming or Tumblring) their drinks. Others were sitting, either reading books or attempting to study. Additional students were cramming. And others simply relaxed and chatted with friends. Despite everything, he still couldn't see the two.

As he turned to face the stairs, walking in its direction to explore the third floor, he felt a hand on his right shoulder. "Altaïr." Said man shook his shoulder to slacken the grip on his shoulder, spun around, and defensively grabbed the impostor by the lapels. His grip immediately loosened when he realised that the "impostor" was Desmond.

"Shit Desmond don't go sneaking up on me," Altaïr muttered.

Desmond smiled playfully. "Not even a 'Sorry'?"

Altaïr merely shrugged. "I have no need to be."

Desmond rolled his eyes. "Right, after manhandling me."

Altaïr scoffed and pushed him sportively.

Desmond began walking and beckoned for Altaïr to follow him. They reached a table with a small brunet standing by its side. Malik was looking down at various papers and holding a cup in the other hand. It appeared as though he was packing those papers down into his brown duffel bag. He had a pencil in his mouth since both hands were full and his glasses were crooked because he was looking down. Altaïr couldn't help running over and crushing Malik in a bear hug. Malik didn't notice till he was wrapped in a warm embrace. The pencil fell out of Malik's mouth and rolled onto the floor because of the utter amount of force.

"I missed you so much," whispered Altaïr.

He felt the tinier man's lips on his collarbone and felt them move.

"It's been one class." His voice was muffled because half his face was pressed onto Altaïr.

"I don't care, it felt like eternity."

Malik tried pushing Altaïr off him. "Stop before you asphyxiate me."

"Fine." Altaïr reluctantly pulled away.

Malik immediately went back to packing the papers.

"What are you packing?" enquired Altaïr.

Malik's eyes suddenly caught ablaze. "The thesis you ruined." He managed to calm down before adding, "And notes, work, stuff like that."

Altaïr walked closer and snatched one of the pieces of paper, ignoring Malik's pointed look. "' _Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you_ ,'" read Altaïr aloud. He continued reading and eventually flipped the paper. "... What the hell is this?"

Malik huffed. " _The Prophet_ by Khalil Gibran. It's for a literary analysis paper."

Altaïr nodded and waited till Malik finished packing all his papers. "Well," he said grabbing Malik's free hand, "Let's go do that paper somewhere else."

Malik looked at Altaïr. " _Let's_? As in let _us_? It's my paper. I'll do it wherever and whenever I want." With that, Malik slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and took a swig from his Starbucks cup.

"Malik." Altaïr stretched out the vowels in the name. "I haven't seen you in such a long ass time—"

"It's only been one. Fucking. Class."

"—and I just want to spend some time with you." That being said, Altaïr put on his best pouty-face.

Malik stared at Altaïr for the next five minutes till he sighed. "Alright." Smiling, he stretched his hand out. Altaïr grasped the hand with gusto. "Only because I missed you too," whispered Malik, hoping that Altaïr did not catch that. His wish was not fulfilled.

Altaïr smiled at him and brushed his lips against Malik's forehead.

Desmond, who hadn't spoken a word and was silently watching and laughing to himself the entire time, finally spoke up. "Get a fucking room."

Altaïr's smile turned crooked and he presented his middle finger to the man as a response before walking off with Malik.

Desmond laughed to himself as he egressed through an alternate exit. "I fucking love those bastards."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahahahahahahahaha _what have I done_.  
>  Well, here's my take on CC. I love College AU's. I may end up writing more because of that love. The song that was abused while I wrote this is "R U Mine?" by Arctic Monkeys. Work title from Aimee Allen's album.  
> Ezio was only half-kidding. And Malik was tutoring Desmond. Or studying with him. Or something like that.
> 
> This chapter inspired by [this lovely picture](http://allahdammit.deviantart.com/art/CC-Oh-God-370805958), © Allahdammit.
> 
>   * _Sembra bellissimo_ means "Seems nice"
>   * _Particolarmente a letto mio_ means "Especially in my bed"
>   * _Sto scherzando_ means "Just kidding"
>   * _Dio mio_ means "[Oh] My God"
> 



	2. Some Velvet Morning

Altaïr had been listening to Malik talk the entire time. Or he'd tried to. The majority of the time was spent watching his lips, or cuddling up against him. Altaïr hadn't felt that comfortable in quite a while, and he enjoyed every second of it. Even if Malik was droning on (well, he actually was trying to explain but it was difficult when Altaïr wanted to do other things) about those notes he took in Physics, Altaïr still enjoyed the time spent together.

They were both sitting on a sofa, notebook and pen in Malik's hands. Malik's head was leaning towards Altaïr's side, giving Altaïr the pleasure of smelling his pleasantly fragranced hair. It gave off a nice aroma and smelled of cologne-scented shampoo. Altaïr's left hand was behind Malik, which he used to hug and keep the latter near him. While Altaïr's legs were straight with both knees adjacent to each other, Malik had his right leg wrapped around Altaïr's left leg. Malik's left leg was parallel to both of Altaïr's legs.

Altaïr would occasionally plant a kiss onto certain parts of Malik's head, be it his forehead, scalp, cheek, ear, nose, or lips to which Malik would halfheartedly berate him for causing a distraction. Both knew that Malik did not mind the signs of affection.

After finishing the last question, they commenced onto the next question.

_When a vector of magnitude 6 units is added to a vector of magnitude 8 units, the magnitude of the resultant vector will be ___._

"Alright," murmured Malik, "This question is super easy. Subtract 6 from 8, and you get 2. Add 6 and 8 and you get 14. So the correct answer can be either 2 units, 14 units, or some value in between." Malik marked the correct answer.

Altaïr nodded so that it seemed like he knew what in the hell Malik was saying. It was definitely easy for Malik since he studied quite often, but not so much for Altaïr. Besides, he could care less about magnitude's or whatever they were called. Wasn't that stuff for earthquakes?

_A 5kg block is suspended by a cord from the ceiling. The force exerted on the block by the cord is most nearly ___._

After writing a series of equations and solving numerous problems Malik broke the silence. "50 N. For sure." Malik wrote the correct answer.

_Which of the following is true of the magnetic field produced by a current in a long, straight wire?_

_A) The field is uniform  
_ _B) The field increases in strength as the distance from the wire increases  
_ _C) The field lines are directed parallel to the wire, but opposite to the direction of the current  
_ _D) The field lines are directed radially outward from the wire  
_ _E) The field lines form circles about the wire_

Malik rolled his eyes. "Definitely E, The field lines form circles about the wire. It's pretty fucking obvious." Altaïr looked at Malik while he marked the right answer. "And why is it 'pretty fucking obvious'?" Malik smirked. "The Alternating Current produces the positive and negative field which causes the magnetic field to be circular. Direct Current's won't form the magnetic field in a straight wire, though." Altaïr stared at Malik. His boyfriend was probably a magician, or sorcerer of some sort. Did he even think? Or was he born knowing the answer?

"Mal," called Altaïr.

"Hm?" Malik hummed. He was caught up in more Physics problems, scratching notes, words, and letters while filling in the correct answer.

"Do you even _try_?"

Malik stopped writing and looked over at Altaïr with a questioning expression. "What?"

"Because you make this shit look basic. How the hell do you answer these questions with such ease?"

After half a minute of silence and stares, Malik finally succumbed to laughter. Altaïr stared. What was so humourous? Was he making fun of Altaïr because he didn't understand jack shit? Altaïr felt himself grow angry at the thought till Malik spoke up.

"I'm not sure, maybe I spend more time trying to learn this stuff than you. You tell me."

"And you enjoy it?"

Malik sighed. "It has to be done."

That didn't answer his question, but it sufficed.

Right when Malik went onto another problem, Altaïr grabbed the book.

"Hey," exclaimed Malik, scowling at the thief.

"Time for a break. We've studied enough, and you need some time off Physics."

Malik glared at Altaïr. "How ironic, usually it's opposite, people telling other people to spend some time reading books and studying." Malik shook his head. "The world can never seem to make up its mind."

Altaïr said nothing and walked away with the book still in his hand. Malik ended up following him into the kitchen, asking him where he was taking the book, what he was going to do with the book, and to give him the damned book back. Altaïr did not answer any of his queries. He finally reached the refrigerator and got on his tippy toes only to push the book atop the fridge, completely out of Malik's reach.

Malik glared daggers at Altaïr and shoved him aside, attempting to get the book back. His efforts proved unfruitful as he was too short to reach the top of the fridge, even while standing on the tip of his toes. "Altaïr," hissed Malik, "Stop with your fucking games and get the book back."

Altaïr shook his head with a smirk on his face. He found Malik's struggles terribly cute. "Nope."

Malik groaned and stomped away. Altaïr was about to follow him to see where he was going till he realised that Malik was bent on getting the book back. It was evident since Malik grabbed a chair and dragged it into the kitchen, setting it in front of the fridge. Malik stepped onto the chair and was about to snatch the book when Altaïr grabbed him around the waist only to set him onto the ground.

"Altaïr," warned Malik, "Let me get the book."

Altaïr shook his head again. "No, Malik."

As he said that, Malik's face grew red with fury as he struggled in Altaïr's vice-like grip. Altaïr carried him out the kitchen into his bedroom where he set Malik onto the bed and grabbed the TV remote. He sat on the bed with a still-fuming Malik and turned the TV on. Flipping through the channels he found one he was comfortable with and attempted to snuggle with Malik. Malik, who was not in the mood, pushed Altaïr away and folded his arms. Altaïr sighed and wrapped an arm around Malik, trying to bring him closer.

This continued on for the next couple of minutes till Malik realised that he was overreacting a tad bit over one stupid book. However, he was too stubborn to admit his mistake to Altaïr. He instead leaned into Altaïr's touch, his own way of admitting his mistake.

They were watching some horror movie. Altaïr had an apathetic, that almost-though-not-exactly- _bored_ look on his face while Malik was trying really hard not to set the TV on fire. That dumb ass couple knew that there was a psychopathic killer out on the loose, yet they found it reasonable to shag each other in the car. Malik did not flinch when the two eventually ended up as victims. Altaïr shook his head and probably would have slapped his forehead.

"Those two deserved it," he muttered. Malik nodded his head in agreement. "Fucking idiots."

By the time the movie was half-way done Malik had lost any interest he formerly had in completing his studies and work. Him and Altaïr were both sprawled out on the bed with their limbs in a tangled mess. Malik's head fit snugly beneath Altaïr's chin and Malik had a hand tangled in Altaïr's hair. Altaïr's arms were wrapped around Malik's waist.

When the movie finished Malik stood up to get himself and Altaïr some snacks. Altaïr said nothing and flipped through the channels, trying to find another movie him and Malik could ridicule.

Malik made himself a cup of Jasmine tea and Altaïr a cup of coffee; the moon was already up, but Malik did not care about the fact that they'd be consuming caffeinated beverages. He had contemplated making popcorn, but remembered that Altaïr was quite a sloppy eater. The last time he made popcorn Altaïr threw them in the air. Malik wasn't very pleased. He stuck with the drinks, and figured that if Altaïr wanted to eat something he could get his lazy ass off the damn bed and make it himself.

When he went back to the bedroom Altaïr was already snuggling beneath a blanket. "Comfortable?" Altaïr looked up from the blankets and nodded. Malik walked over and handed him the cup of coffee. Altaïr nodded again and Malik knew that he was grateful for the drink; for whatever reason, Altaïr rarely thanked or apologised verbally. When Malik entered the bed Altaïr's free hand circled around his waist again. Malik took off his glasses and set it on the nightstand, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

While the two were sipping on their drinks, Malik thought up a devious plan to avenge his book. He had gotten over the book hours ago, but he found it unfair how Altaïr had snatched it as though it was his. He finished and set his cup on the nightstand and immediately grabbed the remote control which had been lying by Altaïr's chest the entire time.

Before Altaïr could retrieve the stolen item, Malik had already manœuvred it out of Altaïr's grasp. Altaïr scowled at Malik. "Give it back."

Malik laid his head back on the pillow and smirked at Altaïr. "Only for a kiss."

Altaïr laughed. "Now you're making it seem as if the remote is only a _bonus_."

Malik promptly sat up and glared at Altaïr. "Look, do you want the remote or—"

Altaïr's lips were against his before Malik had the chance to finish.

Malik was caught off guard but recuperated quickly soon after Altaïr invaded all five of his senses.

Needless to say, the remote control went ignored for the rest of the evening.

"Altaïr." A grunt in response. "Can you get my book back?" A groan. "I don't feel like breaking my neck in the process, that's why I'm asking you."

Altaïr sighed. "Fine." As he trudged out of the bed and put on a random pair of boxers he'd found on the sheets he couldn't help but notice the light streaming out through the curtains giving the room an almost surreal atmosphere. The light streaked Malik's naked back while a rumpled-up blanket covered his hips and lower areas. With his head buried into a pillow and his arms encircling his head Altaïr couldn't help but admire the sight. He needed to see Malik like that more often.

"Are you going to get the book or are you going to stand there all day?" grumbled Malik; he was not much of a morning person. Although Altaïr preferred the second option, he knew that Malik would get angry if he did not retrieve the book.

Shuffling into the kitchen, Altaïr positioned himself in front of the fridge. He got on the tip of his toes and reached over the top of the fridge. His hand felt something solid, and he knew it was Malik's book. As he extended his hand over the book, he accidentally applied a bit too much pressure and ended up pushing it off the fridge, the book landing behind it instead. Altaïr froze.

Oh shit.

Malik was not going to be happy.

As if the timing couldn't be much worse, a bleary-eyed Malik plodded into the kitchen wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of boxers. He would have told Malik that he looked cute in the garments though the hoodie belonged to Altaïr, but at the moment he could have cared less.

"Book," mumbled Malik.

Altaïr gave him a sheepish grin. "Yeah, about that..." Malik immediately shot him the what-the-hell-did-you-do-this-time and the you-only-had-one-job looks he wore so often.

"It kind of slipped..." Malik's eyes narrowed. "... Behind the fridge."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realised something, so let's just say that there is one freakishly tall fridge at the dorm room. As in taller-than-what-is-in-the-norm.
> 
> Inspired by [this awesome picture](http://allahdammit.deviantart.com/art/30-Day-OTP-Challenge-Day-2-Cuddling-somewhere-374667624) and also [this adorable picture](http://allahdammit.deviantart.com/art/Give-it-back-322791681), © Allahdammit
> 
> I think I may end up writing more than 3 chapters for this thing. Because CC is the best thing ever. And I do not know what I am doing.


	3. R U Mine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Explicit content in this chapter. Proceed with caution, and do not read if you have no desire in reading about... er, things that happen on Valentine's Day (though it is currently far from). I'm quite sure I've tagged them all, so yeah.
> 
> As always, picture credit at End Notes (to prevent spoilers or something).

The trees soughed in the breeze, prompting Malik to expedite his pace. His shoes crunched on the thin layer of snow which the welkin had generated not too long ago. Huffing out a breath, Malik watched as it condensed and floated afar.

The month was February, the weather was frigid, and he was _late_. It had been fourteen whole days since February officially incepted, and in order to celebrate the event Altaïr had invited Malik for a night out to some sumptuous restaurant, thus setting Malik in his current position. He had omitted the thought that the Fourteenth of February was _indeed_ Valentine's Day, and since he had a boyfriend he was impelled to buy him something, which Malik had found exceedingly fatuous, not to mention pointless. He believed that Valentine's Day was supposed to be every day, not just one special day of the year. Yet that did not stop Altaïr from wanting to celebrate it, to which Malik initially acquiesced.

His reluctance had grown to assent and appreciation after finding out that Altaïr actually wanted to go out with him. Not just any quotidian place, but a baroque, opulent, and exclusively high-class restaurant. Altaïr intended on eating out at the extortionate, high-toned restaurant but Malik didn't want to throw away half of Altaïr's money on one exorbitant place. They'd decided that they'd eat out at a trendy, semi-formal restaurant by the water. It wasn't as though Valentine's Day was that momentous of an occasion anyway.

He smiled and fingered Altaïr's gift, which was secured within his coat. It was a pricey box of _Godiva_ chocolates, neatly enwrapped in a rouge riband. The box itself was pink and heart-shaped, and fit snugly inside his raiment. Malik had contemplated between _Lindt_ , _Godiva_ , or _Ghirardelli_ chocolates and, in the end, _Godiva_ was crowned the victor. Not due to its price, for it had been the costliest of them all, but due to its flavours. Malik had gotten a variety of different flavoured chocolates so that it would be diverse enough for Altaïr's palate.

He grinned and proceeded with his treading, disregarding the frosty breeze which had tried, but failed, to deter him from walking.

February only had fifteen days till it terminated, yet that did nothing to exterminate the passionate presence of sex and affection which had been ventilated by the air.

Upon reaching Altaïr's dorm, Malik knocked thrice. The door opened instantaneously, presenting Malik with the stunning view of Altaïr.

In a suit.

Altaïr grinned at him like the sly bastard he was. "Happy Val's, Mal."

Malik could only stare and gape. He suddenly felt inferior to the other man.

"Thought I wouldn't dress up for Valentine's Day, did you?" Altaïr tsked. "C'mon Mal, I'm not _that_ bad. Besides, you can't be the only attractive one."

Malik snapped out of his trance therewith. "Me? Attractive?" He made a sound displaying his dissent.

Altaïr merely raised a brow at that. "While I appreciate your modesty and all, you're real fucking stupid for not realising how fucking hot you are."

Malik rolled his eyes. "No need to speak so highly of yourself, Altaïr."

"Oh, shut up." Altaïr grabbed Malik by the revers therewith and jammed their lips together. He did not bother to wait and prodded at Malik's lips with his tongue, expecting immediate ingress. He was admitted inside, and did not hesitate in savouring Malik. He tasted of expensive chocolates.

Malik leaned forward and canted his head partially to allow for a better experience. His arms finally put themselves to use by encompassing Altaïr's neck in an embrace.

Altaïr took that as a sign to encircle Malik's waist with his gangly arms.

Malik hummed and reacted by slashing his tongue against that of Altaïr's.

Altaïr moaned but was soon forced to pull away, with much reluctance on both parts. Malik whined at the loss.

"Shit, Mal. We're never going to get to the restaurant if we keep this up."

Malik frowned at Altaïr since he was the one who'd started _and_ ended it, but he empathised. There was verity in his words. He nodded.

"I know," murmured Altaïr, "I wish we could continue. But I booked reservations so there's that too."

Malik smiled slightly. "You know, you didn't have to do all _this_ ," he motioned with his hands, "For Valentine's Day. We could've just had sex and it'd still be the best Valentine's Day ever."

"Oh, but I did," stated Altaïr, smiling softly at the other. "And as for sex, there will be plenty later." The glint in Altaïr's eyes piqued Malik's interest. He gulped. Well, there was something to look forward to.

Altaïr subsequently stepped out the door, fiddled with the keys for a moment, and locked the door before turning to Malik. "We won't be driving there. I figured we might as well walk since it's not too far from here and since it's Val's day and all."

Malik laughed, but did not mind at all. "Two guys in suits walking down the street? I bet someone's going to think that they're in a Men In Black movie."

Altaïr joined in with the chuckles. "But without all that alien bullshit," acknowledged Altaïr as he took a firm grasp of Malik's hand.

Malik grinned up at him and didn't bother leaning against him.

After dining at an ostentatious restaurant complete with food, wine, and Malik attempting to pay the bill, he'd expected Altaïr to forget all about his promise.

By the time they'd reached Altaïr's dorm it was nearly midnight. Malik had yet to give his Valentine's gift, which now seemed worthless in comparison to Altaïr's. He was, once again, left feeling inferior to the other. He felt déclassé.

Fortunately, he had Altaïr who wanted to make him feel otherwise. "Do you know how hard it was for me? Especially since I was constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you the entire fucking time."

Malik smirked and entered the dorm room. "That mean we're on the same page?"

Altaïr faced the door to close it once both were inside.

When finished, he turned around to simper at Malik. "Oh yeah."

He hadn't forgotten his promise.

As Altaïr advanced upon Malik like a predator to a prey, Malik raised a hand in a stop motion. Altaïr frowned but ceased his steps nonetheless, wondering if he'd done something wrong.

"As much as I'd love to finish what we started hours ago, I still need to give you your Valentine's gift," sighed Malik.

Altaïr had an irked expression on his face, but allowed Malik to look into the coat which he'd removed prior to entering the restaurant. He soon produced the pink box of chocolates and looked at Altaïr solemnly.

He cleared his throat, hoping that it'd magically prevent him from being awkward. "I don't know if you know this, but it requires one hour of sex to burn all the calories contained in five of these chocolates." Malik's face began to redden. "So..."

He averted his gaze towards the floor, the lamp, the ceiling, anywhere but Altaïr's eyes. Altaïr was sure that Malik could not get any redder. "Eat them all."

Altaïr smiled and hugged Malik. "I never knew that. Maybe I don't have to go to the gym anymore if that's true," he jested, pulling away slightly to look at the other's face. "But thank you. I appreciate it."

Malik was still recovering from his blush when Altaïr gently tilted his chin to make eye contact.

"So," begun Altaïr, "I'm hoping that you have more than one box."

Malik's gaze ultimately met Altaïr's.

"Because," continued Altaïr, "We're going to need it."

He grinned at Malik after saying that. Malik ensuingly caught on post hoc. The edge of his lips tilted upwards. "I'm sure it can be arranged."

Malik surmised that it was because it was Valentine's Day. This wouldn't just be happening on any other day.

Altaïr willingly opened his mouth and looked over at Malik, who was sitting on his lap, with an expectant expression. Malik apprehended the look and pressed his lips against Altaïr's, opening his mouth in the process. He felt Altaïr's tongue enter his mouth, searching the vast expanse for any signs of the _Godiva_ chocolate Malik had engulfed not too long ago. His tongue eventually hit something soft and sweet, transferring the chocolate into his mouth.

They had finished one and three-fourth boxes in that fashion. Altaïr swore to himself that he would not get Diabetes. He did not eat _Godiva_ very frequently either, so he figured he'd be alright.

Except that Malik would writhe in Altaïr's lap oftentimes, indubitably not as patient as the other which truly said something since it was always the other way around. He only put up with it since it was the Fourteenth of February.

"Hurry the fuck up," grumbled Malik, shifting in Altaïr's lap.

Altaïr smirked at him. "Why the rush? We have _all_ night."

"Because you're literally taking all night," whined Malik, rolling his hips, hoping that he'd prove his point.

Altaïr gasped and released a breathy moan. "You know what? On second thought, you prove a great point."

Malik chuckled triumphantly and removed himself from Altaïr's lap.

Altaïr pouted and grabbed at Malik. "You're not going anywhere."

Malik sighed comically. It was Valentine's Day. Fine. Malik settled himself back onto Altaïr's lap.

Altaïr smiled. "Still need to burn those calories, right?"

Malik flushed.

Altaïr set the chocolate boxes away. "Saving them for later. Never know when they could come in handy."

"Just shut the fuck up and let me fuck you already," grumbled Malik, tugging at his shirt.

Altaïr looked at Malik. "I was hoping it'd be the other way around."

Malik had a decisive look on his face.

To help quicken the thinking process, Altaïr added, "I promise I won't annoy you next month. Or the month after." Altaïr knew that Malik studied in preparation for the finals during the March and April time period, so even if he didn't make the promise he'd still be unable to annoy Malik.

Malik, however, fell for it. "Alright." He sounded reluctant, though in reality he was far from it. Altaïr saw through his mask.

Altaïr hadn't felt _this_ good in a while.

He couldn't deny that Malik's lips felt great on his length.

His hands had subconsciously found their way into Malik's hair. He felt that if he didn't grasp onto something, he'd probably melt and turn to goo.

"Shit, Malik," he groaned.

Malik took that as a sign to take more.

Altaïr would have shouted, but his throat was nearly dry from utilisation.

He thrust into the pleasing wet heat that was Malik's mouth while Malik continued on with his deed. He planned on driving Altaïr _insane_. Altaïr could blame, or thank, Valentine's Day for that.

Malik's lips prevented his teeth from coming into contact with Altaïr's length, inhibiting discomfort. He bobbed his head and ran his tongue against the underside of Altaïr's manhood. Altaïr swore again.

Malik watched Altaïr through his lashes. He desired more. It was evident that Altaïr did too.

He accelerated his pace. Malik moaned around Altaïr's length, and Altaïr soon found himself joining the chorus after feeling the pulsations of Malik's actions.

Malik's tongue whirled and eddied around the head of Altaïr's manhood. The bitter taste of pre-come filled his mouth. His hand joined and began pumping the base of Altaïr's cock.

"Fuck— Mal," moaned Altaïr. He unwittingly gave Malik's hair a sharp tug.

Malik hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard in retaliation. "Holy _fuck_ —" Altaïr was cut off with an obstreperous moan when Malik ingulfed him whole after his hand left Altaïr's length. Altaïr found himself eulogising Malik's ancestors for passing down their unresponsive gag reflex gene unto Malik. Great people worthy of praise.

Malik smirked in the meanwhile. He knew Altaïr was close. So very close.

Disengaging a partial amount of Altaïr's length from his mouth (met with whines and moans at the loss), Malik ghosted his tongue over Altaïr's head and hummed. His hand encircled Altaïr's base again and pumped vehemently. Altaïr let out a long string of cuss words as Malik bobbed harder and faster. "Fuck— I'm... not going to la—last much... longer," managed Altaïr, panting and moaning heavily.

Malik was well aware, prompting him to take insofar as he was able. Once Altaïr's manhood hit the back of Malik's throat, Altaïr was done for. His hips jerked harshly as he came.

Malik swallowed, unlatching himself with a prurient pop. He gave Altaïr's length one more lick before claiming Altaïr's mouth.

Altaïr and Malik were both lying on Altaïr's bed, Altaïr with his back meeting the sheets and Malik on top of him. Both had been liberated of the curse that was their clothes ages ago.

The comforter of Altaïr's bed covered Malik like the cloak of a king. As cute as Altaïr would have found that, it irked him slightly. He broke the kiss to emancipate Malik of the comforter-cloak. Malik growled at that. "That comforter is not your boyfriend," pouted he.

Altaïr chuckled. "I am well aware," said Altaïr. His hand trailed towards Malik's disregarded cock. "Which is why..." His digits soon wrapped themselves around the flesh. Malik's breath hitched. "... I wouldn't be able to do this," a gentle tug, a quick gasp, "to it, would I?"

Malik moaned and shook his head frantically in agreement. "Point made, you win. Now go back to what you were doing before," breathed Malik. Altaïr looked up at Malik. Altaïr thought he looked lovely. Malik's cheeks and chest were flushed of an exquisite colour, lips moist and swollen from all the osculating they had engaged in, not to mention from Malik's service to Altaïr, which had also caused saliva to coat Malik's cheeks and chin thoroughly. Some of Altaïr's come had found its way onto Malik's cheeks and chin, which Altaïr was tempted to lick off. His hair was tousled and dishevelled, just the way Altaïr liked it. Malik's appearance itself incited and provoked Altaïr's cock. It roused after what had felt like a multitudinous amount of times while Malik merely looked down at Altaïr through half-lidded eyes. "Well?" he said, impatience unambiguous.

Altaïr smirked and commenced with the stroking. He started off sluggish, a dilatory tease. "Quit dicking around and get with the fucking game," said Malik, a petulant look on his face. Altaïr raised a brow. What a pun, though he'd gladly oblige nonetheless.

He hastened the speed, now stroking feverishly.

Malik moaned ostentatiously, hands clutching each of Altaïr's arms in what may as well have been a G.I. Joe Kung-Fu grip. Altaïr twisted the head slightly and Malik groaned. " _Ah_ ," he breathed whilst his blunt nails clawed Altaïr's skin. The bright red marks seemed to camouflage well with Altaïr's already reddened skin.

Altaïr watched Malik. He was straddling Altaïr's hips, thrusting into Altaïr's grip with his head thrown back alongside a parted mouth and bare neck therewithal. By then, Altaïr's cock was fully aroused.

He rubbed his pollex all over the head of Malik's length, smearing pre-come all over. He removed his hand thereafter and licked his thumb. Realising that Malik was watching him through heavy-lidded eyes, he sucked his thumb, generating a moan out of Malik's mouth.

Altaïr smirked and went back to work contiguously.

Seconds soon turned to minutes, and it was then when he knew that Malik didn't have very long to go, if his progressively rambunctious moans, enervating thrusts, and sequentially painful scratches meant anything.

Altaïr revved up his movement and used his free hand to stroke Malik's left thigh.

" _Altaïr_!" Malik threw his head back again and came all over Altaïr's chest with a tumultuous moan. The minutes that supervened were marked with quiescence and inarticulateness, the only sounds being the heavy panting of the dyad.

Malik traced the lurid claw marks he'd incised upon Altaïr's arms while Altaïr watched Malik in morbid fascination. None said a word, yet they sought solace in each others quietude. The twosome both knew that there was still a second round, and they looked forward to it.

"Hey," rasped Altaïr, breaking the reticence. His voice was sonorous. "I'm still not done with you."

Malik met Altaïr's gaze and smirked. "And so you assume that I would be?"

Altaïr chuckled, dipping a finger into the come pooled on his chest. He watched Malik closely and proceeded to navigate it into his mouth. Deliberately, he allowed the digit to intrude into his mouth, nonchalantly licking it clean. Casually sucking on it, he watched Malik with a lazy gaze. Malik flushed again and gulped. Altaïr's languidly elicited his digit thereafter. "I'd never presume."

Malik chortled softly, his voice toned down by virtue of exertion contrariwise to his usually orotund voice. "Is that so?" he intimated.

Altaïr simpered. He dipped his finger in the come again and brought it to Malik's mouth. "Yeah."

Malik opened his mouth and conversely closed his eyes. Altaïr slipped the finger amid Malik's mouth. He licked the finger clean, savouring the salty, bitter taste. Altaïr groaned and Malik's mien was suddenly coated with a slight amount of hubris.

He opened eyes and began licking at Altaïr's chest forthwith.

Altaïr had gasped but his hand caressed Malik's hair thereupon.

Malik nipped at Altaïr's skin, disenthralling those noises Malik adored to hear.

By the time he'd finished, Altaïr had several bruises efflorescing on his chest.

Altaïr sat up and kissed Malik, relishing the taste of Malik and himself.

He had to stop to lick off the residuum of his come on Malik's cheek, and for the reason that he could not forget his ulterior motive. When his action was complete, Altaïr stood up to retrieve a couple of items.

Malik sent Altaïr a querulous look and proceeded to sulk. "Where the hell are you going?"

The edge of Altaïr's lips curved upwards owing to Malik's attitude. It was amusing. "I just need to get some stuff so don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

That seemed to alleviate Malik, so he nodded and laid back onto the bed. He knew of which ploy Altaïr was preparing for once he heard the tearing of a wrapper and popping of a can. Though, with the utmost amount of candour, Malik actually was anticipating it as well.

Once Altaïr returned, Malik's appetence was so great that he insisted on not being lubed up. "It's a waste of time," he'd said.

"You'll be singing a different song once the pain sets in," Altaïr murmured, slathering his rubber-covered length with the substance.

"I'll fucking live, Altaïr," huffed Malik.

Altaïr's brow creased. "You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," growled Malik, eagerness attenuating his artificial demurral.

Altaïr grinned and shrugged. He was glad that Malik was being enthusiastic, for that made it all the more fun, and not to mention better. It'd be a rollicking, hell of an evening, Altaïr supposed.

When he'd finished prepping, he positioned Malik. He knew it'd be of no using enquiring. Malik was arranged to be on his knees, facing away from Altaïr with his head atop a pillow and arms surrounding his head. Altaïr would have opted to make the arrangement more intimate, so that he'd have the chance to see Malik's face the entire time, but he was sure that it wouldn't be the first and last position they'd do throughout the entire evening. There were several more rounds in place.

Altaïr gripped Malik's hips and allineated himself. Malik bit his lips when he felt Altaïr's hardened length on his skin.

Altaïr entered, prompting Malik to moan deeply soon thereafter. " _Shit_ ," he'd groaned, extending the vowels.

Inasmuch as Altaïr did not want to hurt Malik, his pace was dreadfully slow.

"Altaïr," grumbled Malik, "You're not fucking a porcelain doll. Quicken the fuck up."

Altaïr raised a brow. He wanted him to "quicken the fuck up"? Altaïr chuckled darkly. "Ask and you shall receive."

Before Malik had the chance the ask Altaïr what the hell he was speaking of, Altaïr pulled out and then immediately slammed in. His question was turned into a gasp.

Altaïr obeyed any of Malik's requests without question thereon. If an increase in speed was demanded, it'd be conferred. If the enhancing of force was commanded it, too, was bestowed. Malik only had to ask.

Each time Altaïr hit that one sweet spot within Malik, his toes would immediately curl and he'd cry out, beseeching Altaïr to just _hit that spot again_. " _More_ ," he'd beg. Altaïr would oblige with much pleasure. Each thrust produced a moan more vociferant than the last. His hands made themselves comfortable around Malik's hips in a bruising grip. He licked Malik's sweat-covered back and tasted the salty fluid. "Sh—shit," Malik stammered.

It had come to a point where Malik bit and tore away at the pillow beneath him, digits gripping the sheets beneath him. Altaïr penetrated Malik at a rough, steady pace, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves each time. Moans were guaranteed to be released one hundred percent of the time. " _Altaïr_ , Alt— _ahhh_." He'd chanted Altaïr's name like an infinite mantra.

"Fuck, Altaïr, I'm so close," slurred Malik. The utterance was slightly muffled by the pillow.

Altaïr grunted and began smashing into Malik with even more force, using a free hand to grab Malik's manhood and pump withal the rhythm of his undulations. The sensations overwhelmed Malik, and he was spent in less than five minutes. Clamping, he came with a loud scream of Altaïr's name. He slumped onto the bed, though Altaïr did not cease. Altaïr was not finished, though he felt his own pleasure creeping upon him. He was so very close.

Altaïr egressed out Malik, producing a whimper, and peeled off the rubber. He threw the rubber in a random direction and stroked himself like a madman. He soon joined Malik within seconds, shouting Malik's name. He came all over Malik's back.

Utterly exhausted and completely devoid of fucks to give about the mess he was making, Altaïr collapsed atop Malik and kissed his cheek. "You were amazing," Altaïr sighed dreamily.

Malik giggled, something Altaïr rarely heard from Malik. With a smile, Malik said, "You too."

Altaïr grinned and brushed Malik's messy hair with his hand. "I love you, you know that?"

Malik exhaled and nodded. "Me too, even though it's your fault I ripped this pillow open." He lifted his head to remove the pillow and, lo and behold, it was completely torn, cotton protruding out the tears.

Altaïr couldn't help but laugh. Malik grinned. "Hey, you can't blame me for giving you the best fucking of your life."

Malik rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. We'll see how right you are in round three. You ready?"

Altaïr smirked diabolically. "I'm always ready." Malik laughed at that and Altaïr rolled off him. "Imma go get the chocolates."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I'm still wondering how the hell I wrote this.~~ But, yep, I am prolonging this fic. Too much great images to not write about. I think we all know where this chapter title (" _R U Mine?_ ") comes from. And who influenced this chapter. Arctic Monkeys, and OFWGKTA (specifically Tyler, the Creator with Hodgy Beats). Traces of some lyrics have ended up in here.
> 
> This chapter inspired by [this adorable image](http://allahdammit.deviantart.com/art/CC-Valentine-s-Day-354070943), © Allahdammit.
> 
> Unlike the last two chapters, I kind of changed the situation (e.g. they're wearing different clothes than in the image). I imagined that Malik and Altaïr dined at a [restaurant similar to this](http://imgur.com/a/8hqJA) (I do not own any of the images. All rights go to the original owners).


End file.
